The Mustard Seed
by Forgotten Cat
Summary: Leah is sentenced to community service... and makes a new friend.


**DISCLAIMER: All characters and the world of "Twilight" belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own nothing—nothing! Not even a car.**

***

A/N This takes place in the fall post-"Eclipse." And I've never actually gardened, so please forgive any mistakes with that aspect.

_Then said he, Unto what is the kingdom of God like? and whereunto shall I resemble it?_

_It is like a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and cast into his garden; and it grew, and waxed a great tree; and the fowls of the air lodged in the branches of it._

_-Luke 13:18–9_

The rainy spell of the last week had finally lifted and it was a beautiful fall morning on the Olympic Peninsula. Birds chirped softly in the trees and a cool breeze blew in from the West, carrying just a hint of tangy saltwater. It was the kind of morning that the _National Geographic_-reading, North Face-wearing hikers who travel up from Seattle would kill for—or at least trade their last cup of Free Trade coffee for. None of these things made a difference to Leah Clearwater.

If you asked her—or even if you didn't, as Deputy Hernandez discovered—Leah would tell you it had all been Quil's fault. Certainly it hadn't been _her_ idea to end their patrol with a smoke break, although to be fair, she was the one who decided to walk home puffing on the end of the joint. But Leah was used to being screwed by everyone—Sam, Emily, God—the cops were just one more name at the end of a long list.

So, now, Leah was going to be spending 80 hours dedicating herself to the betterment of society, which is why she was here in the Forks Community Garden at a God-awful hour instead of being at home and in bed still fast asleep. She had been assigned a weed filled lot with another presumably equally delinquent teenager to get it ready as a demonstration lot for elementary school kids. Gardening wasn't exactly Leah's thing but it had been this or working at the Bethlehem Church bingo night and if she had to pick between desperate old fogies bidding away their Social Security checks or digging around in the dirt—she'd had to pick dirt. You didn't have to be polite to dirt.

"And at least the county can't mandate me to be cheerful," she thought sullenly and stubbed her cigarette out on the wooden fence post. The hinge on the gate gave a loud a creak as Leah pushed it open and at the noise the white girl at the far end of the lot looked up and gave her a shy wave.

"Hi," she said, smiling, "you must be Leah." The girl was tall, taller than Leah, and had light brown hair, which was pulled back into a prim ponytail. Her khaki shorts, clean and neatly pressed, exposed long, gawky legs and her upper body was chastely hidden behind a baggy sweatshirt.

Leah her gave a half-hearted smile. "Of course," she thought, I get stuck with a freaking Girl Scout."

"I'm Angela," said the girl, walking over. "It looks like we have our work cut out for us, huh?"

Leah gave a shrug. "I guess," she said and scratched her stomach under her ratty old T-shirt, a leftover from Harry that proclaimed, "I'd rather be fishing!"

Angela's smile faltered a bit. "Oh, well—I thought we could start by clearing out these weeds. I mean—if that's okay with you." She tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ears as she waited for Leah to answer.

"Whatever," Leah replied. She slouched forward and rolled her eyes with a practiced efficiency.

"Um—okay," said Angela, looking at Leah's shoulder. "I started pulling weeds up in that corner. So, do you want to start from the other side? We'll meet in the middle?" Angela pointed to a patch of weeds as far as possible from where she had been working.

Leah shrugged. "Whatever," she muttered and a look of disgust flitted across her face. Where are white girls as bitchy as Bella?

"And be sure to pull up all the roots," continued Angela, "or the weeds will— " Leah had already turned away "—come back." She trailed off.

The rest of the morning passed in silence. A sullen silence at first, Leah pulled up weeds and flung them away with more force than was necessary. The stalks littered the side of the garden like the freshly killed bodies of newborn vampires, only leafier and less bloody. But after an hour or so of pulling and digging in the dirt, Leah's mood began to lift. The repetitive actions—dig, pull, throw—were soothing, almost zen-like. Leah caught the occasional glimpse of Angela hard at work on the other side of the plot and the sullen silence turned almost companionable.

At noon, Angela stood up and brushed the dirt off of her formerly clean shorts. "Well, that's it for today. Tomorrow—same time?"

"Sure," said Leah, digging in pocket for her cigarettes and lighter.

"Can I give you a ride home?" asked Angela.

"Nah," replied Leah. "I'll just hitch one back to La Push." She pulled a cigarette out and lit it, taking a deep drag. Angela wrinkled her nose at the smell but Leah just smirked.

"Catch you later," Leah called over her shoulder as she sauntered off.

***

The next few mornings passed much the same way. They weeded, mostly in silence, just enjoying the cool morning air.

"So, what are you in for?" asked Leah, one day as they crossed paths, moving up the rows.

"In for what?" replied Angela, taking the opportunity to itch her nose and leaving a smudge of dirt.

"I mean—what did you do that you have to do community service? Or is this one of those padding the college application things?"

"Oh." Angela blushed. "I just volunteered—it's quiet here and my friends are away at college or getting married and I'm not—I'm not going away. It turns out we didn't have the money." And she turned away, embarrassed.

And Leah felt something as she watched Angela's ponytail swing around, like maybe she had misjudged her. The rest of the morning, Leah would catch a glimpse of Angela's long pale legs out of the corner of her eye and wonder what she was getting out of this.

The weather couldn't hold and soon the damp, misty fall was really upon them. Temperature didn't mean much to Leah and she wore the same outfit of cut-offs and a T-shirt no matter what the season.

"Don't you get cold?" Angela had asked one morning.

The question caught Leah by surprise. "Not really," she said with a shrug.

"Because I have an extra sweatshirt in my car—if you wanted it."

"I don't need your handouts," Leah spit back.

"I didn't mean it like that," said Angela. "It's just—I don't know. Maybe you were cold and—people get cold." Her face was red and her eyes looked suspiciously watery. "Just forget it."

"I'm okay—really," replied Leah quickly. The last thing she wanted was a crying girl on her hands. "Here, feel—perfectly warm." Without thinking, she held out her arm towards Angela, who hesitated for just a second before placing her hand lightly upon it.

Angela's fingers were cool and their tips calloused. Leah's arm was warm beneath them. "I guess you must just have a high metabolism," said Angela softly.

Leah gave her a small smile. "Yeah, I'm just lucky like that. It saves my mom a lot on winter coats."

***

They moved on to preparing the soil, using a digging fork to break up clumps and pull up rocks and stray roots from the soil. They took turns, the other following behind to move the rocks to the side. Leah could have finished quicker if she had done it all herself. Her wolf-strength meant she didn't get tired like Angela did. But she didn't offer. She just followed behind Angela, watching for rocks, watching her hair swing back and forth, watching her. She couldn't quite figure her out.

"I think somebody must be sneaking in at night to put the rocks back," said Leah one morning when she couldn't take the sight of one more rock. "I swear I just pulled this one out yesterday." She held out the bit of stone for Angela to see.

Angela put down the digging fork and leaned over Leah's hand. There was a bead of sweat on Angela's forehead and Leah watched it slide down slowly down the side of her face. Angela smelled clean—like fresh laundry and the forest after it rained—warm and damp.

"That's limestone," said Angela. "See—there are some fossils." Her hand grazed Leah's as she pointed them out and Leah jerked her hand back, dropping the stone. Angela turned away with a hurt look on her face. She didn't say anything else.

Leah picked up the limestone back up and stuck it in her pocket.

***

The day they were going to spread the mulch, it rained - but not at first. The morning started off gray and drizzly like the previous few. Not that it mattered to Leah, who was wearing her usual cut-offs and T-shirt ("Fishermen do it better".) And they worked through most of the morning in comfortable silence. They were almost done when a big, fat raindrop hit Leah on the head. Another fell on her back and then her neck and soon it was pouring.

"Quick!" said Angela and she started to gather up the tools. Leah helped her carry them to the storage shed.

"I'll give you a ride home," Angela said when everything had been stowed.

"I'll be fine," said Leah, thinking about what people would say if she rolled into La Push being driven by a white girl. It was easier to hitch a ride—not to have to answer questions. Besides the rain didn't bother her one bit.

"Don't be stubborn," said Angela, firmly. "It's pouring outside." And she looked so ridiculous with her wet hair plastered against her face but so solemn. It had been a long time since anybody had looked at Leah like that, like she was a person deserving of compassion instead of a problem to be solved.

"Okay, then" said Leah.

Angela gave her a shy smile. The two girls dashed through the rain to Angela's beat up car. She unlocked the driver's side door and got in, leaning over to open the passenger's side door. Leah slid in and closed the door behind her.

"Sorry," Angela explained. "No automatic locks. We Webers like to do things the old fashioned way—with hard labor. My dad says it builds character."

"At least you have wheels," said Leah. "I'm saving up for a car but that requires, you know, a job first."

"Yeah, I know that one. I'm working part time at the church to help pay for my classes at the community college," said Angela. She shivered and started the car. "I'm going get this heat going."

Leah didn't say anything. Coming from anyone else, the earnestness with which Angela described her ridiculously goody-two-shoes life would have made Leah roll her eyes at the very least (with fake vomiting noises a more likely reaction) but, instead, she was actually…touched. How were there people like this in the world?

The vents sprang to life, along with the windshield wipers, and the radio, which blared out commercials.

"There's an extra sweatshirt in the back," said Angela, as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Just reach over."

Even though the water was already started to dry off of Leah's overheated skin, she reached back, grabbed the sweatshirt, and put it on.

"Do you care if I change the station?" Leah asked just as Angela spoke, "You'll have to tell me where to go."

They laughed nervously.

"You know how to get to the rez, right?" asked Leah. "I can tell you from there. It's not hard."

"Sure. And you can put whatever you want on. Just not talk radio. Or classical. My parents always listen to NPR and it drives me crazy!"

"No classical. Check."

Leah turned the dial to the R&B station, partly because she liked it and partly because she wanted to get a reaction out of Angela. What would the nice, white girl do when Kanye started singing about gold diggers? Bass grooves filled the car, mixing with the sound of rain pounding on the roof, and the thumping of Leah's heart. She was suddenly nervous and didn't know why. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Angela, who was singing along to the song under her breath.

Two rights and a left off the main road in the rez brought them to the Clearwater house.

"Well, this is me," said Leah, unbuckling her seatbelt but not moving.

"We'll need to wait a few days to finish up the mulching," said Angela.

"Oh?" said Leah.

"Yeah—I can call you when it's time." Angela looked over at Leah. "I'll need your number, though."

"Sure, sure. Give me your cell and I'll put it in."

Angela undid her seatbelt and reached over Leah to open the glove compartment. Leah leaned forward, just a little and Angela's arm brushed her knees as rummaged through the glove box. Angela found her phone and handed it over. Leah carefully typed in her number and saved it.

"Here," she said, holding it back out.

Angela put her hand over top of Leah's to take it. Leah felt sparks as Angela slowly moved her fingers along Leah's hand. "Thanks," she said, not meeting Leah's eyes.

"You'll call?" said Leah, still not moving.

Angela nodded. Her cheeks were flushed.

"Cool," said Leah with a coldness she didn't feel. "I only have 20 hours to go and the sooner I finish the better." And she opened the door and ran out into the rain.

***

Angela didn't call for a few days. And every morning that she didn't, Leah would wake up and hear the rain tapping on the window and breath a sigh of relief before turning over and going back to sleep. Angela's sweatshirt was forgotten, kicked out of sight, under the bed.

Leah roamed around the house, using her pent-up energy to tease Seth and ignoring her cell phone. "Just go phase or something," yelled Seth one afternoon after Leah had decided it would be hilarious to mess up the settings on his Xbox.

"Fine," said Leah, after she had finished laughing at Seth's frustration, "but not because you said to."

Leah casually walked through the backyard, unconcerned with the spitting rain, stripping off her clothes as she went and wrapping them up tightly. She knew immediately she wasn't alone as she felt the edges of the pack-mind lapping up against her thoughts. Quil. And Embry.

_Nice of you to join us, Leah_, thought Quil. _And here I thought you were avoiding me._

Leah started running, enjoying the feel of the forest air and the smell of the rain.

_It's just not the same going on patrol without leeches to hunt down_, thought Embry. _I'm actually beginning to miss Bella._

She passed through a stream and made a satisfying splash as she jumped in it.

_Oh, God! Don't even start,_ thought Leah. _Let the leech have her and Jake can imprint on Quil for all I care. Actually, that would be hilarious. You should do that. _She gave a little bark of laughter.

_Damn, Clearwater_! thought Embry, amused, and Leah caught a flash of Quil's outraged wolf-face.

_How's the community service going?_ Quil shot back. _Enjoying spooning out oatmeal or whatever?_

_Ha. Ha. It's all your fault I'm stuck working with Holly Hobby_ she thought at him and unbidden a flash of Angela's tall form rose to the front of her mind. Angela digging…

_Isn't that one of Bella's friends? _thought Quil. _You really are eternally damned. I bet she talks about how cool Edward is all the time._

Angela stretching…

_Is she?_ thought Leah. _But she never said anything, but then if I was friends with Bella, I wouldn't want to talk about it, either._

Angela in the car blushing…

_Wait—_thought Embry. _Do you _like_ her?_

_What are you talking about? _

_You like her._

_What?!_

_No! Shut up!_

_It's okay if you do—I mean, we could use some new visuals._

_Stop making me part of your sick fantasies._

_Hey, chill!_

But Leah had already phased back, cutting off the conversation. They were clearly delusional. "They were just trying to get under my skin," she thought to herself. "I still love Sam." But the comforting anger she felt towards him felt different—less firm. Leah didn't want to get back into it with Quil and Embry so she changed back into her clothes and lit a cigarette. She would walk home.

There was a message waiting for her when she returned. The rain was going to clear up—Angela wanted to meet at the garden tomorrow.

***

Not only had the rain stopped but the wind had blown away the heavy clouds, leaving a light blue sky streaked with just those wispy clouds that looked like her mother hadn't finished mopping the kitchen floor. Leah, standing outside the Community Gardens, finished her cigarette and lit another one, still observing the clouds.

"Feathers—feathers and fur," she thought looking at them. "That's what they look like." The nicotine from the second cigarette made her head feel a little fuzzy, which combined with the fact that she was focusing on not paying attention to the garden plot—her garden plot, allowed Angela to sneak up behind her.

"Hey," Angela said shyly. "Are you coming in or just admiring the clouds?"

Leah shivered, startled, and turned around. She blushed. "Um—I was just finishing my smoke."

Angela cheeks were red from the chill in the air. "I can wait," she said. "I don't mind."

"Whatever," said Leah and she looked back up to the sky—anything to avoid looking at Angela's soft brown eyes again.

"Cirrus clouds always look like waves to me," said Angela.

"I guess they kind of do," Leah replied. "Or feathers."

"Like swan feathers—" Angela paused, while Leah stubbed out her cigarette on the fence post. "Do you know the story of the six swans?"

"Is that some kind of Disney thing?" Leah opened the gate and held it open for Angela to walk through.

Angela groaned. "Don't get me started on Disney. No, it's one of Grimms' Fairy Tales. The story starts with—"

Leah interrupted the story with a cry of pain—a splinter from the gate.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" She shook her hand in pain.

"Are you okay?" Angela rushed over. "Let me see it."

"I'll be fine," Leah said, bringing her hand up to suck on the wound.

"Don't be silly—I have tweezers." Angela dug around in her pockets and pulled out a small red knife.

Of course she had a pocket knife. Leah gave her a wary look.

"You'll be no good to me if you can't use a shovel," Angela reasoned. "I promise it won't hurt."

But that's not what Leah was worried about. She was worried about the soft touch of Angela's hand on hers and feeling the warmth of Angela's body, smelling her.

Leah held out her hand and watched, rapt, as Angela pulled out her tweezers and began working on the splinter of wood that had buried itself in Leah's palm. Angela hummed a tuneless song as she concentrated and Leah's heart ached with every verse. The delicious torture couldn't last forever and eventually, Angela worked the splinter free.

"There!" she exclaimed. She held the piece of wood out for Leah to see. "Look at that!" But Leah was looking at Angela's proud expression. She closed the gap between them and kissed Angela on the cheek.

Neither girl moved.

"What was that for?" asked Angela a little breathlessly.

"I don't know—it was nothing. I'm sorry." Leah took a step back but Angela grabbed her wrist.

"Wait," she said and looked into Leah's eyes, searching for something. Leah opened her mouth to issue another apology but Angela didn't let her get the words out, stopping them with a kiss. Leah kissed her back and the tweezers fell to the ground, forgotten, as Angela brought her hands up to pull Leah closer.

Angela's lips were soft—she was soft all over, very different from kissing Sam. Sam had always taken the lead, telling her to touch this or suck that, and she had done it and it had felt nice but not like this. Leah wrapped her arms around Angela's neck and pressed harder against her. She wanted to devour her. She was on fire.

Leah reached up and tried to undo the ponytail that had taunted her for weeks. Angela gave a sigh of pleasure as her hair fell free and pulled back. She shook her head, releasing the final strands.

Leah watched with a guilty smile. "I've wanted to do that for a while," she admitted. "Your hair is really pretty."

Angela smiled and looked away, embarrassed. "I thought you didn't like me."

"I like you." Leah took Angela's hand. It was so cool in comparison to her own boiling skin. "I like you a lot."

"Good," said Angela, as she pulled Leah back towards her, "because I like you, too."


End file.
